You will either find rationality in irrationality or irrationality in rationality here. Just depends upon who you are!

Saturday, June 11, 2011

The News Man

K was a handsome lad in his early forties. He had been working as a top executive in a fortune 500 company for many years. A well known industrialist, enough money to burn for multiple generations, a loving wife and a daughter, good health, a fancy bungalow in the most posh locality in New Delhi. He had more than what most people only dream of but he felt a void. He knew deep inside that some things amiss. He wore a shoe and didn't know where it pinched. What pleased him before in life did no more. Not the tenderness of his wife's body, not the innocence of his daughter, not an exotic holiday, not the delectable food, not an expensive wine, not his convertible Mercedes, not head banging to rock music, not golf or conversations with friends on the golf course, not being himself. His life had been way too easy and predictable. Predictable is deadening. He had the knack of achieving anything even before he wished for it. K had always got the kill but never did he experience the thrill of the chase. Wise say who say that easy come is easy go need to meet K.

He was "bore to the core". In search of redemption he started to keep a close eye on his daily routine. What he did, how he did it and the words he had uttered. When he got up, brushed teeth, ate breakfast, drove to work, attended meetings, had lunch, took coffee break, drove back home, made love, hugged his daughter, played golf, went out with Mrs. K. What he ate, whom he met, which meetings, how many coffee breaks, what music did he listen to, how he made love, what he wore. Breakfast table conversations with Mrs. K, the good morning to office receptionist, chitchat over coffee, the raunchy whispers in bed. He saw a stark pattern. His life that to most seemed a scripture was an ordinary seven page book, each page titled after a day of the week. It was a seven song play list and he detested each one of those songs. "Who trapped me in these chains? These chains, how do I set myself free from? These banal colors that define my life, how do I alter? This tiring tune to which my life is dancing, how do I change? How do I save myself?"

That night he twiddled around in bed all night and considered his options. How does he set himself free? "A world tour? What good will it do, there is no place in the world I haven't been to. A new business venture? What thrill will it give? I have already won these battles. An extramarital affair? What pleasures will it give? the pleasure of body is not what I seek. Materialism is not what will please me, I have had all those joys. I have got my hands dirty with spiritualism, it was a bore. There is no water left in this world to quench my thirst. What's the point lingering on with this miserable life? I should just kill myself. Let this soul be free. It's the only plausible option". As soon as that thought crossed his mind, it gave him a shiver, something that he had not experienced for years. The goosebumps and the tickle he felt in his stomach provided the adrenaline he sought. Making quick decisions was a quality that had helped him rise up the ranks in corporate and that's what he did that day. It was settled. "No one should get the slightest idea that it is intentional to ensure that my family gets the insurance monies". He slept off thinking of various suicide options.

Next morning, he munched his breakfast slowly in a rhythmic manner, reading a newspaper and suicide still at the back of his mind. He wouldn't have known that the newspaper he was reading was going to change the course of his life.

"Car crash on the Noida express highway, four dead"

That evening after work instead going back home K went to Turquoise Cottage, a famous bar in South Delhi. He ordered a bottle of Shiraz Cabernet and started sipping the wine slowly. "I have lived my life to the fullest and there is nothing else for me to do. I haven't had a reason to smile for years. In a few hours I will be free from this world that's unworthy of me. I am glad that I read that news in the morning."To save myself I have to kill myself". He paid the check and drove towards the Noida express highway. Half an hour later he entered the highway, the Judas Priest song 'Beyond the Realms of Death' playing at an ear bursting volume. He sang along. "Yeah! I've left the world behind. I'm safe here in my mind. Free to speak with my own kind. This is my life, this is my life. I'll decide not you". The guitar riff played and he said "To save myself I have to kill myself". He banged his head and said it aloud many times. He was ready. He got rid of his seat belt and pushed onto the gas, as much as he could. After a minute he was zipping on the road at 150 km/h. The road was poorly lit and at that speed he could barely see any buildings or farms. To his left about 500 meters ahead, he saw a huge tree. It was time. He took one deep final breath and turned the steering to the left. After few seconds he would be free, so he thought.

His eyes fixed on the tree, one moment it was all he could see and the very next his eyes fell on an SUV. A young couple who probably hadn't found any other place to make out that evening had parked it there. He instinctively pushed on to the brakes. The wheels made a loud screeching noise, the car circled around the rear wheels, he banged his head on the steering, darkness all around, sounds of metal, the hissing sound of airbag opening, crashing glass, a loud thud, a girl screaming. After a couple of minutes, in his half conscious state he saw a tall man banging angrily with his fist on the window pane. The Judas Priest song was still playing but the music seemed to be coming from far away. He felt the warm blood trickling from his forehead and managed to unlock the door. The man outside hurriedly opened it, got K by his collar and pulled him out. Before anybody uttered a word, he punched him hard on the nose. Blood gushed out. "I'm sorry, I didn't me.." before K could complete his words he got kicked in his balls and felt a shrieking pain. He fell on the ground like a lump, knees folded and hands clutching onto his balls. The tall man started kicking him left and right. Pain is like poison, it cures itself. The physical pain took him to a different horizon. K gathered some energy and held the leg that was about to hit his abdomen and pulled it off the ground. The tall man fell on the ground and banged his head on the concrete. K got up and kicked him in his stomach a couple of times. In that split second, the tables had turned. The screams of the man on the ground were exactly the music his ears were waiting to hear for ears. A mystic trance had hijacked his mind. He pounced onto the man like a tiger and kicked him in his face. He bent down, bit his ear and tore apart a huge chunk of it. He kept on hitting him even after the man lost his consciousness. "Stop, stop" he heard a girl scream and hit him from behind with all the force she could muster. Unperturbed by the soft blows K stood up and turned back. Still in the frenzy he held the girl by her hair and dragged her for a few feet. "You bitch". One of her molars flew when K punched her in her teeth. There was a loud thud of the girl falling on the ground and it was followed by utter silence. All he could hear was his own heart beat. Then it started to hurt. His forehead, neck, legs, right shoulder, knuckles, left eye, everything was in pain. He lit a cigarette and stood there smoking his eyes fixed on the two bodies lying unconscious on the ground. He kicked the man one last time and got back in his car having completely forgotten what had led him there. The car fortunately was not completely broken. He drove back home.

He got into his bathroom and looked in the mirror. The mirror lies often, but at that moment it didn't. It presented a gory face, blue skin, red cheeks, brown blood, black eye, swollen lips. He didn't take his eyes off it. What transpired that evening was playing in his mind heavy. "What was the last time I hit a man? Probably in school and I was thrashed and lectured by my parents not to do it again. A woman, never in my life. I have lived a bookish life, a book written by society that has been passed from one generation to another. I am not only expected but demanded by this book to walk on the path it prescribes. Study when you are a kid, score good, get thrashed if you don't, get into a college, get a good job, serve your company, work like a donkey, marry before thirty, have kids before thirty two, buy a house, raise your kids, pass them the 'society' book, become religious. Be honest, be loving, respect your elders, be kind, be loyal, be good. I was not born but bred with these percepts. So predictable, so boring". He started smiling. The smile soon turned into laughter. "Oh Lord! Thanks for this life. Thanks for giving me this chance. What a day. What joy. What was the last time I laughed like this? Who says I don't have a reason to smile? What a fool I have been to end my life? I kept on complaining of the darkness. I lived in a cocoon, the cocoon that You burst today. In a way I did die today. This me who stands here is a new born. It's my rebirth". The laughing continued, followed by a shake of the head and silence which entailed a loud laughter again. This pattern continued for hours. "You made me realize today that the dark I see is not dark, it's just that my eyes were closed. Society corrupted me, it wanted me to keep my eyes closed. No more dear Lord, no more". "To save myself I have to lose myself" he said as the dawn broke in full fervor.

He made himself a drink and his eyes fell on previous day's newspaper. He picked it up and read the car crash news one more time. He immediately felt like picking a fight. His mind wandering, a thought struck him. "If not for this newspaper I would have not experienced what I did today. It is no less than God's signal. I have got to embrace it and pick cues from it". It was an "Apple falling on Newton's head" moment. It was what made Archimedes run out of his bath tub naked. "The newspaper is my guiding light. It is what will help me lose myself".

"I am the News Man!"

Mrs. K was away for some social event and he did not need to explain anything about his bruises. K got bandaged and after a couple of days of rest was back to work. Since that fateful evening, he had only thought of one thing. "How do I pick my next fight?". The very first evening of his return, he banged his car intentionally on to a rickshaw. "You bastard" he came out screaming of his car, got hold of the rickshaw puller by his hair and vented out his life's frustration on him. As it often happens in these cases, the meek rickshaw puller probably used to these thrashings offered no resistance at all. A little fight makes large crowds gather and watch the show but despite it being the rush hour only a handful of people gathered around. After all, who wants to watch a dead woman getting raped? That month K got involved in as many as twelve fights. His desire to pick up a bout increased with each passing day. Apart from banging his car he started using other methods. He was ready to do anything in an attempt to let lose. The will finds a way always. Walking on the street he bumped into another man, pretending to take a phone call he parked his car in the middle of the road, shopping in a liquor store he claimed he had paid the bills when he had not, buying cigarettes he claimed that the Benson & Hedges pack he got was a local duplicate, walking in a shopping mall he grabbed a woman's ass who was accompanied by her husband. At times these combats would result in K getting on top, other times he would get the beating. The penchant didn't allay though, it only grew.

"Thief creates havoc in East Delhi, Police helpless".

K was once again enjoying his breakfast when he read this news and a new seed was planted in his head. With billions in his bank account the thought of stealing had never crossed his mind. He went to his bedroom. Mrs. K was taking bath and her hand bag was lying on the bed. He picked it up and took all the cash out of it. He placed the bag back and rushed towards his breakfast table. Once he had reached office he got a call from Mrs. K complaining about the theft. She said that she was sure it was their house maid who had done it. K expressed concern, asked her to calm down and get rid of the maid. In the evening while coming out of his office he saw one of his engineer Manish working and two family pictures of his placed neatly on the desk. The first picture was of a small kid dressed up in a funny hat and the second one of him with his wife holidaying on a beach. He thought for a moment and then retreated his steps to get back to his office. Every now and then he would get up to see if Manish was still at his desk. The next day morning both the pictures had disappeared from the face of the earth.

Next day K and family were invited by a friend for a small get together at his home. His friend and wife were perplexed to find that the next morning their toothbrushes were nowhere to be seen. K was a smooth operator and he loved to steal on the edge. "What's the fun of stealing when no one's around" he would often think. He would walk to a shopping mall and picked from all kinds of shops. He enjoyed a walk to the temple with Mrs. K on Mondays and picking up shoes under her nose. He even was successful when he picked two rupee change from the temple right in front of the priest. His store room started filled fast. With cash, cell phones, French fries (from McDonald's), books, panties (the same night he stole toothbrushes), laptops (from his office), wallets (pick pocketing in bars), jewellery (from Mrs. K's friends), shoes (from temple), keys (where ever he saw them), cutlery (where ever he dined), comic books (from her daughter's school bag), towels (from hotels), scissors (from barber shops), apples (from local vegetable vendor), badminton rackets (from his health club), golf clubs and even dustbins (from his office).

K was sipping his afternoon coffee in his office when he read this bizarre news. All his life the thought of sleeping with a man had never crossed his mind. He put his right hand in his underwear and caressed his ass. He thought of kissing another man, holding his penis, mouthing it, entering his hairy backyard, letting him enter his own anus, sucking his semen. He felt like eating raw eggs. "That's because my mind is closed. The society has corrupted my brain but no more". He knew what his new avatar was going to be. Wearing an Armani suit and a red tie that evening, K drove to Connaught Place. After parking his car he walked towards the metro station and stood there nervously waiting for something to happen. An hour passed by uneventfully. "May be the news was a hoax". Tired of waiting and disappointed, he started to walk towards his parked car when he heard a voice from behind "Hello old man, looking for some action, are we?". K turned around and saw a well built man, spiked hair cut, pierced left eyebrow, his biceps and chest bulging out almost tearing apart the T-shirt he wore that was two sizes short for him. He must have been in his early twenties. "Ammmm yeah". "I am Kumar. I am a law student studying in JNU. I have a room in Katwaria Sarai. You want to go there?". "Sure". K led him to his car. "Man! you are rich". Once they were seated, K felt Kumar fiddling with his hair and fidgeted in his seat. Kumar lit a cigarette. K did not utter a word during the thirty minute drive to Kumar's room. Kumar held his hand as they walked through the narrow streets to reach his rented one bed apartment on the second floor of an old and shabby building. "How about some grass dude" Kumar said and got a joint out of his pocket. They smoked and Kumar poured the good old Old Monk in two glasses and offered it neat to him. K gulped his drink in one shot and said "Kumar, I am a virgin. Please go easy". "Don't worry, you will not forget this night I promise" Kumar smiled.

They were seated on a couch and after a couple of hash joints and drinks only thin air separated them. Kumar put his right arm around him and started playing with his ear. The touch and the tickle helped a stiff K relax a little. Kumar pulled him nearer, kissed him on his lips and started sucking them. K was trying his best to let lose but Kumar could feel the dissident. He tried to force his tongue inside K's mouth. K clenched his teeth and the incoming tongue could only go as far as the teeth. "Open your mouth, give me your tongue" said Kumar and tried again. K gave in this time around. Enjoying the ganja he closed his eyes and thought "let go".

The two tongues met finally, twisted and turned around each other like two passionate snakes making love. Kumar unzipped K's trousers and started playing with his balls while the marathon of the two tongues continued. He started stroking the penis and engulfed it in his mouth completely, his hands now back to K's balls. "Man! This guy does a much better job than my wife" K thought. If you close your eyes does it matter whose sucking it? The tongue after all is unisex organ. They moved to the bedroom and were naked soon. With his middle finger Kumar started poking his hole. "It's so tight, do you want me to apply some Vaseline". "Yes please. That will be great". K took the Old Monk bottle and started gulping it neat as Kumar tried to force through the gate. After some initial hiccups it was smooth sailing. The gates were unlocked for the first time. The pain came first, followed by immense pleasure. The liquor, the ganja and the warm rod inside of him was a heavenly combination. Kumar started spanking his buttocks. "Slow" he moaned. Kumar came inside him. Later that night K took the aggressor role and tried to penetrate. After two futile attempts he did finally succeed. He did not enjoy this role as much as the former. It was only after 5 am next morning and three ejaculations that he drove back home.

Over the next one month K went berserk. He seduced his house cook, a young engineer Ankit working in his company and a nephew Sachin in his early teens. He always strove to play the role where he just had to lay down and let the other male spoon him. "Have I always been a bisexual? Is the entire world a bisexual? It's the book, the book that I am trying to burn that curbs these instincts". These acts also led him to adventuring into anal sex with his wife. "Wish she had a penis" he said to himself one night.

Next few years went like a charm. K played all kinds of roles the newspaper could lead him to. A bully, a gay, a thief. He took bribes and moved the millions he made to his new Swiss account. He played a social activist. He went onto a fast for eight days protesting against the Indian black money in Swiss accounts. He mowed down a kid driving drunk after he read similar news.

"Famous movie star rapes his house maid"

Mrs. K was out of country. The house maid was in the kitchen cooking food unaware of what was brewing in K's mind. K kept the newspaper aside and got out of his bed. He stood at the kitchen's door gazing at the maid dressed in an old saree cutting vegetables. K felt ants crawling on his skin. He pounced and grabbed her from her waist and started biting her neck. Before she could make a noise, he shut her mouth up with his right hand. He pulled her hair with his left hand and dragged her to the bedroom. Once inside he let her go and locked the bedroom. He felt like a tiger ready to attack the hapless. "Let me go" she cried. Her screams filled the room and K felt all so powerful. He tore apart her blouse and grabbed her round breasts. She kept on screaming and tried to break free but all in vain. He slapped her multiple times and with some effort got rid of her saree. She had spent all her energy and lay there like a dead meet, naked. K took a breather and got rid of his shorts. He mouthed her breasts and started caressing her buttocks. He spanked them real hard and with every spank he shouted "I am the news man, I am the news man.".

He was inside her. He was stroking with all his power and with every stroke he shouted "I am the news man". Suddenly there were loud noises outside the room and the next moment three guys barged into it breaking the door. One of the intruder pulled K and then the three of them started beating him. K on his part kept on laughing and enjoying the thrashing. With every punch, with every kick the laughter became louder and louder. K's driver had heard the screams and after gathering a couple of more folks had caught him red handed. In the court he only had one thing to say. "I am the news man. I am simply following God's will. I do what He says. No more, no less. He asked me to rape the maid". He had the legal resources to fight his case and after only staying for 4 days in jail and paying an undisclosed amount to the maid's family the news man was free. Free to enact in God's play once again.

Mrs. K was nowhere to be found during the trial. "She must be angry" he thought driving back home. "It's not anyone's fault. I am the news man and only doing my job. I will explain it to her. I am sure she will understand. May be I will be able to convince her to play my counterpart. The news woman". He got home and heard laughter coming in from the bedroom. He walked slowly and peeped in to find Mrs. K in bed with another man. "There is no need for me to be away for parties or social event now that son of bitch is going to rot in jail for years."

The picture of one's own wife naked in someone else's arms is bound to send shivers down the spine. K was after all only human. He bit the bullet and decided not to tell his wife that he knows the truth. He burned from inside, lost his appetite and sleep. He stopped reading the newspaper and was back to normal chores of his life. Three months passed by. K was K again. A dead man walking, the news man forgotten.

"Brand new Tata Nano goes up in flames"

"Sir, have you seen this news?" Manish asked him over lunch. "I was planning to buy one for my nephew but I am not gonna do it now". K ignored him and continued with his lunch. On his way back home that evening he saw a Nano on the road. It was raining hard. Lightning struck, twice. First one up above in the sky and the second in his brain. "The news! The car! It's a sign. I need to accomplish what I could not earlier". A quick decision was made as always.

He parked his car in his garage and stayed inside it. He closed his eyes and pictured that day and Mrs. K once again. It was time. He got a matchbox out of the glove box. "Damn! just one match stick" he said in disgust. He could not take chance with just one. He got out and looked around. He saw some old magazines and newspapers lying in the garage. He picked all of them and threw them on the seat and got back in the car. K struck the match. He looked at the newspaper picking up fire and gazed at it and was about to close his eyes but something made him open them real wide.

He came out of his garage and looked up in the sky. The rain fell down on his face even harder. With arms wide open he finally closed his eyes and smiled.

Inside his garage the burnt newspaper was lying on the floor. It was almost burnt but the headline was still intact.